


girls, kissing II

by cheinsaw



Category: Fate/Grand Order, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bisexual Female Character, Breakfast in Bed, Canonical Character Death, F/F, Femslash February, Literal Sleeping Together, Mutual Pining, New Years, Nobody is Dead, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:55:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 5,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22565890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheinsaw/pseuds/cheinsaw
Summary: It's Femslash February and we're doing this again. A collection of one-shots (mostly) of Fate series ladies kissing each other.sakura/medusa - 1irisviel/saber - 2, 3, 8osakabehime/musashi - 4hokusai/suzuka - 5shuten/ibaraki - 6, 10nitocris/scheherazade - 7guda/tamamo cat - 9update 3/3/20: i had planned to have one more chapter of this, but it got out of hand, so that chapter is just going to be its own fic. thank you for all your support on this fic! ♡
Relationships: Ibaraki-douji | Berserker/Shuten-douji | Assassin, Irisviel von Einzbern/Arturia Pendragon | Saber, Katsushika Hokusai | Foreigner/Suzuka Gozen | Saber, Matou Sakura/Medusa | Rider, Medusa | Rider/Parvati | Lancer, Miyamoto Musashi | Saber/Osakabehime | Assassin, Nitocris | Caster/Scheherazade | Caster, Ritsuka Fujimaru/Tamamo Cat
Comments: 51
Kudos: 153





	1. sakura/medusa - parvati

**Author's Note:**

> hello and welcome! i'm your lesbian tour guide! this is not a request fic, i'm just writing whatever i like and hopefully you like it too. YOROSHIKU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a bit (read: very) different than the parvati trial quest and therefore doesn't line up with canon, but i hope you enjoy regardless. think of it as a what-if scenario.

There's something so familiar about her. 

The newest Servant to come to Chaldea: Parvati, wielding the spear of her husband Shiva. Rider doesn't know the first thing about Indian mythology; Rider is from nearly the other side of the world. Parvati, gentle smile, kind eyes, something raw and dangerous hidden deep below the surface. She treats Rider with the same demure respect as everyone else, it seems, but Rider feels—

Something. It must be something. Perhaps in another time or place, they were summoned together. (And yet. Rider cannot shake the ghost of a memory of holding this very same girl in her arms.)

"Heat it up very slow, okay?" she's saying—Rider knows this voice,  _ knows _ it in her soul. "Once it melts, the fat will separate from the milk."

"I see that." A deeper, rougher voice. That would be Emiya. Rider cannot be at ease around him, even if he seems friendly enough here. Sweet Parvati, imparting her knowledge of Indian cuisine to Chaldea's head chef.

There is something so familiar. This feels like home—a home Rider cannot have ( _ anymore,  _ she thinks, though she can't understand why).

Rider turns around, and walks back to her room without stopping for a meal.

She pictures Parvati in a dull brown school uniform, a pink cardigan, a white dress. Rider knows the softness of those hands, can feel them in her own like phantom pains. (The Parvati here, when Rider opens her eyes, is draped in blue and gold.)

_ Sakura— _

Yes, that's right, Sakura. That was her name. That was her name when she held Rider close, when they stood hand in hand. She was hurt, and so she hurt in turn (just like Rider, just like Rider). Perhaps Parvati is something like Mash: the fusion of a human and Servant. Rider can sense the Divinity she carries, yet she is unmistakably Rider's Sakura.

Rider has to know. She has to ask, has to satisfy the emptiness inside her that aches to  _ know _ what happened, why there is so much she cannot remember, why Sakura is here, now, the vessel of an Indian god.

She stands before the doorway to Parvati's room, unable to knock. She feels too large here, an intruder, tall and threatening. Parvati surely doesn't remember her. If she had, she would already—

"Who is it?" Parvati calls out from behind the closed door. "Come in."

Shaking, Rider slides the door open. Parvati is right there. So close. Rider can't move.

"Medusa?" Parvati asks. "Is there something wrong?"

Yes. No. Yes. Rider breathes in. "It is nothing for you to be concerned about," she says. "I… May I come in?"

Parvati's face brightens. "Of course," she says. "I'm afraid I don't have many places to sit, though… It's a little bare in here, ehe."

"It is fine," Rider says quietly. She can stand.

"Is there something… well, you said there wasn't, but could I maybe help…?"

Rider presses her lips tightly together. "I will be forthright," she says, as cool as possible. "How much do you remember? If anything," she adds.

Parvati looks up at her with wide, confused eyes. "Remember? I, um… Are you referring to, well… Fuyuki, I believe it was called?"

Rider nods. "Me," she says, her throat suddenly feeling dry. "I wanted to know. If you remember me."

Parvati visibly relaxes. "Oh, of course I remember you," she says, and for a moment she is not Parvati the Servant, but Sakura the mage, Sakura the human girl. "Rider."

It has never felt so tender, so intimate to be called by her Servant class. "Yes," Rider says, her heart melting. "Sakura."

Parvati smiles so kindly. "I'm afraid I'm not quite her. Not completely, at least… It's more like she and I fused together. I am Parvati, but we remember you. You were really, really important to the owner of this body, I don't think I could forget if I tried." She reaches out and takes Rider's hands in her own. "May I kiss you, Rider? Is that okay?"

"Yes," Rider whispers. There's something familiar about her—and at last, Rider is at home.


	2. irisviel/artoria - dying kiss

Somehow Irisviel always thought it would be more sudden. Like she would fall asleep one morning and never wake up. She never imagined the details, just the certainty.

"Irisviel. Irisviel! Stay awake, please, Irisviel!"

Saber's holding her. Saber's arms are all taut muscle, cradling Irisviel against the metal of her breastplate. It is the softest kind of security, Saber's embrace.

Her body is beginning to feel fuzzy and light. This must be it, she thinks. She knew it would come. Death, to bring forth the Grail. It's amazing, really, how long she's had in this form before its inevitable conclusion. Most homunculi, she's heard, don't have even a fraction of the chance to enjoy life as she has. Illya, Maiya, Saber. Yes, she can't find anything to regret.

"Saber," she says feebly, a smile coming to her face despite her weakness. "I'm so glad it was you…"

"Irisviel," Saber sobs, and it's now that Irisviel realizes Saber is crying, has been crying.

"Don't," Irisviel says, as gently as she can. "Saber. Kiss me?"

Saber does, pressing her mouth against Irisviel's. It's a desperate gesture, less like a kiss and more like a plea. Saber is so warm. She's always been.

_ You can win the Grail War, _ Irisviel wants to say.  _ I want you to have it. I want it to be you. I am the Grail, I am the vessel, and I only want you. _

"For me," is all she can manage.

"I will," Saber breathes. "I will, Irisviel."

Saber dreams of Fuyuki on fire, of a sword piercing through her at Camlann, the Garden of Avalon, Rhongomyniad in her hands. She dreams of her knights, her sister, her long-gone wife. She dreams of Irisviel's body limp in her arms, and  _ God,  _ can she ever rest?

The tale of King Arthur isn't one of glory. It is bloodshed and pain and betrayal, and Saber may never be satisfied. (Then again—if she were, she would not belong to the Throne of Heroes.)

Saber can stand, and she can fight. Even if there is nothing else, she can do this much. Irisviel treated her so kindly. Irisviel saw her not as a tool, but as a friend, a lover, a welcome partner in the war that binds them both. She won't let Irisviel be forgotten, or let her sacrifice go to waste.

(Somewhere, in a faraway dream across time and space, perhaps—)


	3. irisviel/artoria - reunion kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is loosely based off a really nice art i saw on twitter: https://twitter.com/tuberpaste/status/1201961111207047168?s=19

Saber sits alone in a plain bedroom at Chaldea. It's been months, and she still cannot think of it as hers. Servants don't need to sleep, or rest, or have rooms to call their own. Saber is her Master's sword, helping to weave the threads of human history back together. (Saber is plagued by vague, achingly pleasant memories of her own.)

There's someone at the door. Master. Red-orange hair, warm eyes. She knew someone like that once, but the name and face always slip through her grasp. So many things she only half-remembers, so many things she's forced to push away.

"Artoria? There's, uh, somebody who's been asking for you," Ritsuka says, lingering in the doorway.

Saber frowns, knitting her brows together. Surely it's not Emiya. Or—heaven forbid, Gilgamesh. Any of them— _ no, no, _ she tells herself,  _ Master wouldn't make you see the King of Heroes.  _ But try as she might, Saber can't think of anyone who would have to  _ ask  _ to meet with her.

"Who is it?" Saber asks, as neutral as she can.

And—her stomach drops.

"Saber," this woman draped in white says, in her flowery-sweet voice that could make Saber cry. "It's been so long, hasn't it?"

"You're—you—Irisviel?" Saber whispers, her voice cracking. It's all coming back, now: Irisviel, holding her close, pressing against her, fighting by her side. All of it rushes through her so suddenly that Saber feels dizzy from the intensity of the accompanying emotions.

Irisviel giggles. "Yes, it's me. It seems I've become a Caster-class Servant. May I come in?"

Saber nods, her throat choked with the threat of tears. Irisviel wastes no time in sitting by Saber's side on the bed, giving her the exact smile Saber has been incoherently dreaming of for so long.

"I'll leave you guys to it, 'kay? You know where to find me if you need anything." Ritsuka gives a little wave and closes the door behind her, leaving Irisviel and Saber alone together.

"Saber," Irisviel says warmly. "Have you missed me?"

"I—wait," Saber says, not wanting to have her hopes crushed. "How am I to know that you are truly the Irisviel von Einzbern that I knew?"  _ The one who died in my arms, _ she wants to say,  _ the one who broke my heart. This is impossible— _

"Oh, Saber, that's easy. My knight. You remember that?" Irisviel reaches down and clasps Saber's hands between her own. "You always called me your princess. I liked that so much, you know."

It's here that Saber breaks down. "Irisviel," she whimpers, and falls into Irisviel's waiting arms. "Irisviel…"

"I know. I know, Saber. I'm sorry. I know."

Saber tilts her face up; Irisviel takes the cue eagerly and kisses her. Then again, and again. Yes,  _ yes,  _ she remembers this feeling: Irisviel's softness, all around her.

When they finally break apart, Saber doesn't want to open her eyes, for fear that this is all an elaborate dream, a trick of some kind. Yet when she does, Irisviel's still there, a breath away, smiling so tenderly.

It is so much to process. So many emotions at once, countless things to think and feel. In this building, surrounded by almost nothing but ice, the last hopes of humanity thrive. Here, impossibly, Irisviel von Einzbern, returned to her side.

It is best, she decides, to kiss Irisviel again. Just to be sure.


	4. osakabehime/musashi - forehead kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cringehime

It's unfair how this happens. One moment Osakabehime's  _ just closing her eyes for a sec,  _ and the next she's being rudely shaken awake. "Okki, hey! You shouldn't sleep at the kotatsu."

"How'd you get in here," Osakabehime mumbles. "Oh, crap, Musashi!" Suddenly she's much more alert. Her Master breaking into her room to find her asleep in front of her computer—that she can deal with. Miyamoto Musashi… not so much.

"Yep, that's me!" Musashi beams. "Master let me in since nobody's seen you for like three days."

"Why'd it have to be you," Osakabehime groans. Miyamoto Musashi!  _ The _ Miyamoto Musashi seeing her in such a state! Osakabehime could just curl up and die right now. In fact, it'd be preferable, really, to going on like this.

"Um, cause I'm worried?" Musashi laughs. "Come on, Okki, obviously there's something wrong." She sits down on the floor next to Osakabehime, gorgeous blue eyes fixed on her. Shit. Shit. "If you sleep in the kotatsu, you're gonna burn yourself."

Osakabehime thinks she might throw up from the amount of butterflies in her stomach. "Um, chotto a minute, I never asked for you to come in here and—uwah!" Musashi's suddenly grabbed her under the arms, dragging her out from under her kotatsu. "Hey! Put me dooown…" The sudden cool air on her skin should shock her awake, but only makes her wish harder for sleep. When Musashi lets go, Osakabehime's body flops back down to the floor like a ragdoll. She stumbles to catch herself; it only half-works.

"Huh. You really are tired," Musashi muses. "Well, okay! Just have to sleep it off, then!"

"Hime-chan can take care of herself," Osakabehime tries weakly. Too late. With a grunt, Musashi hoists Osakabehime's body into her arms princess-style, cape and all, cradling her gently.  _ Ah… so strong, _ Osakabehime can't help but think.  _ Wait, no, of course she's strong! She fucking dual wields! What's wrong with you, Hime! _

"Nah, I think you should probably go to bed. Even Servants need rest sometimes!" Musashi beams, and Osakabehime can feel the way her voice hums and fills her chest. "Um, give me a sec, you've got all kinds of stuff in your bed here." Musashi gently lays Osakabehime down on the futon, then starts to pluck the plastic wrappers and stray crumbs from the blankets, tossing them aside. "There! Good to go." She punctuates her words by pulling the covers over Osakabehime's body.

"Noooo," Osakabehime groans. She'd wanted to rest, yes, but not like this. Not with Miyamoto Musashi cleaning up after her like she's a child. Not with Miyamoto Musashi tucking her in and—

Musashi's lips graze her forehead, barely touching her skin. "Rest up, Okki," she says. "I'll be here."

Osakabehime could die. She could roll over and die right here. Instead, to her chagrin, she feels herself slipping back into unconsciousness, with only the faint ghostly warmth of Musashi's lips still lingering on her skin.


	5. hokusai/suzuka - confession kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all for your very sweet comments on this fic so far! it really motivates me and warms my heart. i'll be at katsucon this weekend cosplaying mash so come say hi to me c:
> 
> i chose to refer to the katsushika daughter as oui here, rather than oei as fgo does - oei was a nickname her father gave her, but oui was her given name. also, everything she says about her life while alive is true to history!

Katsushika Oui has a problem.

Several problems, actually, but they all converge into one big disaster, a pretty girl with platform heels and Mystic Eyes and a sword from Heian legend. "We're, like, BFFs, right?" she says when Oui asks, and that only makes Oui's heart sink deep into the pit of her belly.

Friends. Sure. Best friends, even. Somehow, Oui doesn't think that best friends look at each other this way. At the very least, the way she's been staring at Suzuka can no longer pass for friendly affection. It's just study for paintings, she'd been telling herself. Suzuka is just one of many beautiful women at Chaldea; it would be a crime not to capture her loveliness on paper. Oui has done so many times: the lines of Suzuka's bare legs, her neck and collarbones peeking out from her blouse, the softness of her fox ears and tail. And, yes, maybe she  _ does  _ really want to touch all those things with her hands and not a brush, but…

She can no longer deny it. "Jeez, Toto-sama, what a mess," she mumbles. The little octopus that floats at her side bobs in agreement.

It's New Year's again, though the holiday has lost some of its meaning now that Oui and her father are Heroic Spirits, removed from the flow of time. Nevertheless, it's not like she won't take the excuse to laze around the kotatsu and eat mandarins.

Suzuka is there too, naturally. Suzuka is  _ way  _ too close to her, sitting right by her side, their legs brushing together under the kotatsu. She's humming cheerfully as she peels the oranges, cutting into them with the sides of her perfectly manicured nails.

Oui fidgets with her hands. Wishes she had a brush and some paper to distract her, to at least have something to do besides look, or pointedly not look, at Suzuka Gozen.

"Here ya go," Suzuka says brightly, placing three fresh mandarin slices in front of Oui. "They're like mad sweet, so I hope you like that kind of thing."

"Oh, it's fine," Oui says, distracted by the color of the fruit against Suzuka's fingertips. "I mean. I like oranges. Anyway, uh, got any new year's resolutions…?"

"Totally! I actually decided it's time for me to, like, get over myself and start hooking up again, you know? Maybe not with randos, but I'm totally ready to be DTF again."

Oui feels like she might die right here at this kotatsu—of jealousy or excitement or fright, an emotionally Suzuka-induced death. "Oh, uh… What about your 'awesome boyfriend' you kept talkin' about?"

Suzuka's cheeks redden, and her face looks something like  _ sheepish,  _ something Oui wishes she could sketch right now so she could look at it forever. "Uh, yeah. So! I talked with Master about him. It, like, sucks, but I can't really remember him much at all. And he also killed me, which is rude AF." She sighs. "It's more like I'm holding onto how he made me feel? But I doubt I'm ever gonna see him again, so…"

Oui nods once. She can understand this, at least. "I got divorced when I was alive. I couldn't stand him, so I went back to workin' with Toto-sama. Literally for the rest of his life."

"Whaaaat? You were married?! Please say sike."

"It didn't last very long!"

"Damn, bet that dude had  _ no  _ idea what a catch he lost! Legit, you're  _ so _ pretty, and your paintings are so hype."

Oui can't tell if the compliment is meant to be friendly or flirtatious. Whatever its reason, it makes her knees weak. "Thank you," she manages, hoping Suzuka doesn't notice how flustered she's getting.

"Hey, Oui? Are you, like, okay?"

"I'm fine! It's just, I, um, I've painted a lot of romantic stuff but I haven't really had a lotta experiences like that myself, so…"

"Do you want to?"

Oui can't breathe. "A—what?" she squeaks, with her heart stopped in her throat.

Suzuka's face goes red again, a blush spreading across her cheeks. "I mean, if you're into girls. Cause, like, I'd swipe right, if you were down."

"I am, actually," Oui manages. "I'd—like that a lot."

Suzuka's eyes widen, and her mouth curves into a smile. Oui barely has time to process it before Suzuka's kissing her, soft and messy, fangs scraping against her lip. Oui's body burns; her stomach flutters. Breathless, she kisses back.

When they part, Suzuka begins to giggle, and Oui quickly follows suit. "Jeez, you're tellin' me all I had to do was  _ ask?  _ Seriously?!"

"I've—I mean, I've been… feeling that way about you for a while, but I guess I thought it was just me. You know?"

Suzuka snorts. "As if! No, I really like you, Oui!"

Hearing her say it makes Oui practically melt. "So… what do we do now?" she asks.

Suzuka hums and swings her legs over Oui's, hoisting herself onto Oui's lap with ease. "Too forward?" she says, cupping Oui's face in her hands.

"I think I can handle it," Oui breathes, and presses her lips to Suzuka's.

(Suzuka's ears and tail, she soon finds, are every bit as soft as they look.)


	6. shuten/ibaraki - kiss on the back of the neck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've written almost this exact same fic before. and by god. i will do it again

Ibaraki wakes in the middle of the night to pain in her wrist and a sense of urgency.

She forces her eyes open. She is at Chaldea, lying on the futon she shares with Shuten. Her right arm is still attached—she checks. Shuten's back is to her, but Ibaraki can make out the steady rise and fall of her chest. Breathing. Shuten is here with her and safe and breathing. Ibaraki is alive.

Well, as alive as a Servant can be. Ibaraki-douji is not meant to be seen this way. Oni are not vulnerable or soft, and they certainly don't jolt awake in fear from dreams of fire and swords and Shuten, Shuten, lifeless—

No. Shuten is here. Shuten is here with her and alive as a Servant can be and breathing. (She checks.)

Ibaraki reaches out, shifts herself until she's curled around Shuten's back. They fit together like puzzle pieces; they always have. Even now, with Ooeyama long gone, certain things never change.

Shuten has a scar ringed around her neck. Perhaps her death is as much of a part of her legend as her life, and so its mark stays even in her Servant form. Usually, she keeps it covered, save for when she sleeps. Usually, Ibaraki doesn't look. (It is a horrible thing.)

Ibaraki presses her lips to the jagged, discolored scar, placing a soft kiss to Shuten's skin. She may not be able to undo what happened, but she can at least make sure it never—

"Ibaraki?" Shuten hums. "You're awake…"

"Yeah," Ibaraki says.

"Mmm." Shuten rolls over (she can make even this elegant, too) and studies Ibaraki's face for a moment in the dark. "Did you have a bad dream, sweetie?"

Ibaraki's throat closes. There is no hiding from Shuten. "A little—it's not like it was bad! Just, you know…"

"I know," Shuten says, and pets Ibaraki's hair, her movements slow and sleepy. "I'm here, Ibaraki. There, there."

Ibaraki leans into her touch. Shuten can always make her melt, can always soothe her in a way nothing else does. Within moments, she can feel herself becoming sleepy again, relaxing against Shuten's body.

Neither of them will speak of this in the morning, and there's a silent understanding that it will happen again. Then again—Ibaraki wouldn't want it to be anyone but Shuten who sees her this way. She knows it's the same for Shuten, too: the two of them, the only survivors of their clan.

Ibaraki breathes in, and sinks into a dreamless sleep, now thinking only of Shuten's fingers stroking her hair and Shuten, alive, by her side.


	7. nitocris/scheherazade - comforting kiss

This is okay, Scheherazade thinks, this is perfectly fine. Her hands don't shake quite as much as they used to—she knows there is very little danger to be found in Nitocris' room. Scheherazade sits and runs a comb through each section of Nitocris' hair. Meticulous. Over and over until it shines and the comb passes through like water. No danger, yes, only her own hands doing the gentle loving work of brushing her Pharaoh's hair.

"Scheherazade?" Nitocris asks. Her voice seems at home here, in this room bathed in gold. Her Medjeds twitch to attention, looking up from the bedside at Scheherazade with their wide black eyes. "You don't have to do this if you do not want to."

"It's not that… I do wish to be here," Scheherazade says carefully, setting the comb down. "Even if I may not be able to fall asleep. You have shown me so much kindness that I…"

"I understand," Nitocris says. "It's alright. Master knows, and I have Medjeds standing guard. And I am here." She turns so she can look Scheherazade in the eye. "Alright?"

"Alright," Scheherazade repeats, and lets Nitocris take her hand.

It has been one hundred and thirty-three days since Scheherazade was summoned. Not once in that time has she slept, not daring to let herself fall unconscious in a place like this where demons and kings and monsters and murderers roam free. It has been one hundred and twenty-four days since she was last sent to battle, and one hundred and six since she last spent a night outside of Chaldea's library. Servants do not need food or sleep to survive, after all, and Scheherazade asks very little of her Master. In return, she is not forced to fight, and is mostly left to herself amongst the library shelves.

Nitocris' room is warm, and her bed is soft. Scheherazade inhales and does not think about the myriad of ways this night could kill her. (It has been one hundred and twenty-three days since Nitocris first held her hand.) Nitocris has been nothing but sympathetic and caring and kind, though a king she may be. Nitocris, she knows, would never hurt her, so she tries her best to push away the what-ifs, and slowly lies down at Nitocris' side.

"It's not too cold, is it?" Nitocris asks, pulling a blanket over them.

"No, thank you," Scheherazade says quietly.

"If you would like anything…"

"Yes, I know." There is so much for Scheherazade to take in, here: the way her body sinks into the bed, the subtle flick of Nitocris' jackal ears, the heat from their bodies beginning to cling to the blankets. "You have my utmost gratitude, Pharaoh Nitocris."

Nitocris leans in and presses a gentle kiss to Scheherazade's lips. "I truly want you to feel safe here," Nitocris whispers. "Whatever it is that you need."

Scheherazade nods, savoring the lingering feeling of Nitocris against her mouth. "I truly cannot thank you enough for being so… understanding and patient with me. If you would, I… I am ready."

"Very well," Nitocris says, with a little smile. With a small wave of her hand, the lights in the room go out, plunging it into darkness.

Almost immediately Scheherazade tenses. She remembers, seared into her bones from surviving one thousand and one nights: pitch black means a pause in her storytelling. The absence of light. Death. Death by morning.

"Is something wrong?" Nitocris asks. She is still so kind—she must be frustrated by now. It would be understandable, to be irritated by a woman who can barely handle herself and continually makes unreasonable requests.

_ I don't want to die.  _ "It is nothing."  _ I don't want to die.  _ "If you don't mind, may I keep… a small light…?"  _ This is— _

"Yes! I don't mind at all." In a second Nitocris has conjured up a small lantern at her bedside, flickering in blessed red-orange light.

Scheherazade swallows. "Thank you… thank you." She would like to get on her knees and bow before Nitocris, but she feels frozen in place in this bed.

Nitocris shifts closer, warm, curling up against Scheherazade and reaching out to stroke her hair. "It is no trouble."

Nitocris falls asleep easily, her hand still half-resting on Scheherazade's shoulder. Scheherazade watches her face for several long minutes: the slight part of her full lips, her long lashes fluttering slightly. Soft, defenseless, lovely.

Scheherazade breathes, and closes her eyes.


	8. irisviel/artoria - soft kisses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you like saber being unfulfilled and miserable, this is not the fic for you!
> 
> this one is really short i have been SWAMPED with work + back to back fgo events + started playing arknights ;u;

Saber has never felt more safe in her life than she does in Irisviel's bed. She may be a Servant, but her form is still flesh and blood: certainly more than enough to delight in the warmth of Irisviel's body, her touches, her kisses. Here in the rebuilt Einzbern mansion, Saber finds herself, at least in the moment, content and secure.

"You look happy, Saber," Irisviel says, brushing blonde strands away from Saber's face.

"Indeed," Saber replies, closing her eyes and leaning slightly into Irisviel's touch. "My princess, did I not say you could call me by my True Name when we are alone?"

"You did," Irisviel murmurs. "My Artoria. Ahh, it's so cute how flustered you get!"

Saber's face burns with embarrassment, but she makes no attempt to hide from Irisviel. There are so many new sensations Irisviel has given her; this is one of the finest. "Irisviel," she says, for no reason other than to see her beloved's face light up.

Over a thousand years have passed since Saber's death after the Battle of Camlann. It's 1994, Irisviel tells her, nearly the end of another millennium. The war is over, and they have each other. The Grail has granted Saber an incarnate human form, and Irisviel her health. They exist, here, together, both alive. 

Irisviel reaches forward, cupping Saber's cheek in her hand and planting a soft, chaste kiss on Saber's lips. Then another, for good measure. Saber hardly minds. She allows Irisviel to climb on top of her, pressing their bodies flush together.

"I'm so happy I found you," Irisviel whispers. "My Saber."

"As am I," Saber replies. Even now, hearing such tender words from Irisviel still make her heart race. "My princess. I would gladly do anything you asked of me."

"I know," Irisviel says, and giggles.

Surely this cannot last forever. Saber's time has long since passed, and she knows her existence here with Irisviel is transient. Yet she does not feel the ache of regret, of  _ if only there was more time _ which has plagued her for all her life and death. The Grail has given her more than enough to enjoy for a long while, and she has no need to hurry.

Irisviel lays her head against Saber's bare chest, resting just above where Saber's heart beats. In turn, Saber reaches and threads her fingers through Irisviel's silky hair. It's quiet here. And this is enough, Saber thinks. This, in itself, is enough.


	9. gudako/tamamo cat - morning kisses

The day after she returns from the fifth Singularity, Ritsuka wakes up to a heaviness on her chest. Strange—she usually sleeps on her side, not her back. And yet, she is most definitely there, on her back, with a person lying on her chest. 

Ritsuka has always been acutely aware of each of her Servants, can sense their whereabouts and goings-on. So, without even opening her eyes, she can tell that her visitor is the one and only Tamamo Cat.

Well, it could be worse, she thinks. Cat adores her, in a much more normal way than some of her other Berserkers. And she only ever tries to kill the other Tamamo, and she mostly keeps her clothes on.

"Cat," Ritsuka says, her voice strained. "I can't breathe."

"A-nyoom," Cat replies, rolling away from Ritsuka. The bed is certainly not large enough to hold two people, but Cat manages to press herself up against Ritsuka. "Woof, good morning! Welcome home, Master, I made fresh bacon and cheese omelettes!"

"Oh, that's what smells good… Thanks," Ritsuka yawns. When she manages to get her eyes open, it's to Cat's affectionate golden-brown eyes looking up at her, and Cat's golden-brown tail swishing back and forth with excitement.

"Of course, for my dearest, darlingest, deliciousest Master." Cat smiles in satisfaction, then reaches up to sandwich Ritsuka's face between her large, fluffy paws. "Kiss?" she asks hopefully.

"Sure," Ritsuka says. "I'm good with that."

Cat makes a happy trilling noise in her throat, then dives forward to smash her lips against Ritsuka's. Her kisses are always frequent and enthusiastic; now is no different. Ritsuka leans up into Cat, resting one hand against the small of her back and using the other to stroke one of Cat's soft fluffy ears. Through it all, Cat never stops wagging her tail.

When they break apart, Cat dissolves into giggles, pressing the tip of her nose against Ritsuka's. "Tell me everything! A cat is all ears and all paws."

"About the Singularity?" Ritsuka yawns, unable to stop smiling herself. "I was kinda hoping I could eat first."

"Oh, breakfast in bed with Master! Okay, one second and Cat will be at your service," Cat sings, hopping off the bed with a soft thud. Ritsuka pulls herself up to sit, affectionately watching Cat scamper to the other side of the bedroom to retrieve the tray of food she'd brought. The omelettes are still steaming hot, and smell even better up close when the tray is resting in her lap.

"Cat, these look amazing. What kind of cheese did you use?" Ritsuka asks, hardly able to restrain herself from digging in with her hands; instead she begins to cut into one omelette with the fork Cat brought. The first bite is heavenly. Ritsuka always savors her first meal after coming back from a Rayshift, but Cat's cooking is particularly good, incomparable to any other.

"Sweet onion, crispy bacon, white cheddar, cheddar jack," Cat chirps. "Cat always remembers Master's favorites."

Ritsuka nods, giving a thumbs-up with her mouth full of food. "It's really good," she manages. "Really, so good."

Cat beams, rolling back onto the bed and snuggling up to Ritsuka. "Oh, Master, Cat's so happy! Ahh, Cat only wants to be a good housewife someday, sooo…"

Ritsuka laughs a little, and reaches down to scratch Cat behind the ears. "I'd say you already are."


	10. shuten/ibaraki - structurally unsound wine tower

The tower goes up in less than a day. It's remarkable. Most things that Shuten does are. One hundred floors, pure vapor and mirage and alcohol haze. It's not like Ibaraki cares much about Inferno or whatever she's calling herself, but nevertheless, she is Shuten's partner, along for the ride.

" _ Anything _ I want?" Ibaraki asks. Surely she's misheard. Surely the alcohol that permeates Shuten's tower is affecting her more than she'd thought. They are sitting cross-legged on the floor, in the room that will be Ibaraki's. Shuten delicately balances a red-lacquered sake dish on her fingertips, tilting it back and forth but never spilling a drop. Ibaraki holds a replica of the same dish in her claws—Shuten's favorite. At her side is a small poster with Shuten's face printed on it, a miniature Shuten figurine, and a Shuten throw pillow.

Shuten smiles, her eyes half-closed in drunken delight. "Of course, sweetie. Anything you want."

"Then… Then I want you to kiss me."

"Oh, Ibaraki, you know you don't have to ask for that." Shuten leans forward to close the space between them, pressing a long kiss to Ibaraki's lips. "I want you to show everyone  _ else  _ what a nice time you're having, okay? But I can't just stay here to kiss you the whole time."

"Right," Ibaraki says, half-forgetting what the point of this tower even is. "Right! Then I want, uhhh, I want more of this Shuten merch. You know, like… wall scrolls. Pillows. That sort of thing."

"Mmm, you really are shameless." Shuten kisses her again, this time slipping her tongue into Ibaraki's mouth for just a moment. Ibaraki's knees go weak instantly. "That's how I like you, you know. Shall I make you some candy too?"

"Yeah," Ibaraki says. "Just not grape flavored shit."

Shuten laughs, setting her dish down to place her cool hands over Ibaraki's too-warm ones. "You don't like grapes, my love?"

"They're too sour now," Ibaraki replies. "Besides, grape flavor isn't much like real grapes at all."

"Do you like pomegranates, then?" Shuten is leaning in close to her now, nearly in Ibaraki's lap despite all the space the empty room offers. "I could make something  _ so  _ nice with those. Blood red… you know."

Ibaraki grins at her, closing the distance so their foreheads touch. "Sure. It's perfect."

Soon the tower is complete, with guards stationed at every tenth floor all the way up to the top. Shuten has filled Ibaraki's room with her own image, just as Ibaraki wanted. And Ibaraki waits, and Ibaraki waits. She eats a Shuten candy, savors it, sucks on it for what feels like hours until her mouth is numb with sweetness. She lies on her back on the floor, and eats another candy.

Man, she really fucking underestimated how boring this would be.

When Ibaraki rolls onto her side she's greeted not by the usual Shuten body pillow, but  _ actual Shuten,  _ lying incredibly still with that same smile on her face. "Waaah—Shuten! How long have you been here?!"

"A little while," Shuten says. "I missed you."

"I mean, I missed you too, but—weren't you gonna…?"

Shuten looks up at the ceiling for a second, contemplating. "They've barely made it to the twentieth floor. It's kind of disappointing… We have more than enough time, you know?"

"Yeah," Ibaraki says. "Uh, does that mean you…?"

"That I what, sweetie?"

"That you're gonna, uh, I dunno… spend some time with me, I guess?"

"Mmm. I suppose… it's no fun being all by myself up there, just waiting and waiting." Shuten wiggles closer, enough for Ibaraki to breathe in her heady sweet wine smell. "I think I'll stay here until the little bugs start to be entertaining again, okay?"

Ibaraki couldn't agree more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Yeah Ibaraki Actually Does Super Care About Archer Inferno Or Whatever She's Calling Herself
> 
> "structurally unsound wine tower" is from tumlr user shinmyoumaru


End file.
